Time To Rewrite
by jennifer snape
Summary: Harry is slowly weakening because something is meddling with his past. He is sent back, on borrowed time, to correct it. But is there more than his own life at stake? A story about trust, friendship, romance, and second chances.
1. Snape Raises The Stakes

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**Time To Rewrite**

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**Chapter 1: Snape Raises The Stakes**

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As the students noisily gathered their belongings and returned the cooled cauldrons to their rightful places, Harry felt his knees suddenly weaken. He lunged desperately for the desk at which he had been working and exhaled loudly, squeezing his eyelids shut. No. _No_. _Just breathe. Everything's fine_. He rested against the sharp edge of the wooden bench, his fingers fanning out on the hard surface, head bobbed slightly, and waited for his breathing to assume its normal rate. What was happening? This was the third time in as many days that he had had to take a few moments to steady himself. _That's a lie_, his brain wickedly taunted. _You've been like this for weeks_…. "Shut up," Harry growled softly to no one in particular.

A loud voice barked from the front of the classroom, diverting whatever attention may have been drawn towards the struggling Gryffindor. The booming command captured the students' attention immediately. "Three feet of parchment detailing the properties of dried Devil's Snare and its interactions with the Befuddlement Draught _by next lesson!_"

The class groaned. The rumours about the NEWT workload really hadn't been exaggerated after all.

"_Three_ feet," Snape reiterated coldly. "Not _one_" - his scornful gaze flicked over Neville - "and not fifteen either" he sneered, darting a mocking glance in Hermione's direction. A few Slytherins snickered.

Hermione visibly reddened and mumbled something into her schoolbag as she cleared her notes from the desk at the front of the class. She had been moved there halfway through the lesson after attempting to correct Ron's somewhat angry-looking potion. Snape's eyes suddenly narrowed as he saw Harry let out a silent gasp at the back of the room. The Headmaster had instructed Professors Snape and McGonagall to keep a close eye on the Gryffindor's behaviour, and much as Snape had disliked watching the boy more than was absolutely necessary, he had nevertheless kept track and reported his findings dutifully.

"Sarky git," Ron grumbled in a low voice as he fumbled for his belongings, still stinging from the Professor's comment to Hermione. His cheeks flamed. He always took it extra personally when it was Hermione who was being insulted. "Why doesn't he pick on someone his own size?" Ron's attention was suddenly diverted by the sound of a strangled groan from the boy across the desk from him. He immediately dropped what he was doing. "Hey – Harry!" He rounded on his best friend in alarm. "Harry!"

Harry was gripping his forehead and leaning over the desk. His breath escaped him in ragged gasps. "Here – sit down!" Ron pulled out a stool and started fanning him wildly with his opened Potions textbook. A few pages dislodged and fluttered free of the spine due to the vigorous flapping.

"I'm fine – I'm - " Harry collapsed onto the stool gratefully and rested his throbbing forehead on the cool wooden surface of the desk. Severus darted an alarmed glance in Harry's direction and quickly whipped his gaze away, lest any students should follow his line of sight and realise what had made his face momentarily whiten. He quickly addressed the class to avoid any attention being directed towards the boy and motioned to the class to exit the dungeon before he started deducting points.

Harry, oblivious to his surroundings, slowly felt the panic subside as his breathing gradually steadied. He rubbed his hands over his eyes. "Really, Ron, just give me a minute, I'll be – _arrgh_ - " Harry winced again and doubled up as a bolt of white light flashed across his vision and exploded, shooting tiny sparks in all directions.

Snape ushered the remaining stragglers out into the corridor before anyone had a chance to register what was happening.

Unaware of the Potions Master's actions, Ron remained by Harry's side. Hermione rushed towards the two of them as she noticed the ghostly look on Harry's face. He exhaled loudly and hung his head, visibly weakened by the effort of holding himself upright. Hermione bit her lip, her features twisted with concern. "Harry - "

"No!" Harry retorted, without looking at her. He clenched his teeth, holding his head in his hands. "_I'm fine_."

"You're obviously _not_ fine!" Hermione pleaded. She winced as she took in the dark circles under his eyes and the manner in which his robes hung off his thinning frame. This had gone on for too long and she wasn't prepared to accept any more of his feeble explanations. "Please, Harry - "

"Just _drop_ it!" Harry inhaled shakily and closed his eyes once more.

"Let us take you to Madam Pomfrey, please!" Her voice rose slightly as she pleaded with the stubborn wizard before her. "It could be something serious, you've been like this for weeks - "

"I said I'm FINE!"

Harry struggled to his feet –_ his limbs felt so heavy_ - and clumsily crashed his books into his schoolbag. He flung it over his shoulder, ignoring the pounding in his ears and the odd tingling feeling in his fingers. He stumbled towards the back of the classroom.

He barely made it to the door before he collapsed.

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"Chocolate frog?"

Harry couldn't quite place the voice, nor properly comprehend the words, but he instinctively turned towards the sound. His brain fought for control but his body argued, wanting only to rest. He blinked dazedly several times as the world slowly swam into focus.

Lupin gave Harry a half smile as the boy rubbed his eyes with the back of a clumsy hand. The Gryffindor groaned a little as the images before him bled into one another. Slowly, very slowly, the blurred objects separated to form –

The hospital wing.

"What - ?"

"Harry!" Hermione, returning from the far end of the ward with a cup of water, rushed to his side, her face a mixture of fear and relief. Thank goodness…."

"What?" Harry repeated stupidly.

"You collapsed!" Hermione continued, a fresh load of tears welling in her eyes.

"Out cold for fourteen hours, mate," a voice added helpfully, from somewhere in the region of the foot of the bed. Ah. Ron. Although the red-haired boy had attempted to sound cheery, his voice rang rather hollowly. Harry took a while to register his words.

_Fourteen?_

"Where - ?"

"Hospital Wing," Lupin confirmed, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of the proffered chocolate.

"What - ?"

"We've already been over that part," Ron frowned. He turned to Madam Pomfrey, who was giving her patient the once-over with her wand. "Are you sure there wasn't any damage - ?"

"Shut up Ron!" Hermione snapped, giving him a steely glare. She turned back to Harry. "I'm so glad you're awake, we've been worried sick!" Her pale complexion confirmed her words. Come to think of it, everyone seemed to be rather the worse for wear. Lupin had dark circles around his eyes, and even Ron was looking quite tired. It was then that he noticed Professor Dumbledore standing a little to the left of Lupin, an arm resting on the window ledge and a worried, slightly preoccupied expression on his face. The first streams of sunlight heralding the newly approaching day traced the lines on the aging Headmaster's face. Harry squinted a little. Even in his drowsy state he could have sworn that there were more worry lines than there had been a few weeks ago, when he had last seen him.

Harry jerked his head up to greet them and quickly regretted the sudden movement. The mere effort made him quite dizzy. He gasped as a spasm of pain ignited at the base of his skull and groaned, letting his head loll back onto his pillow.

"Harry…Harry!" Hermione's voice rose unsteadily when she didn't get a response. "Harry!" She started to shake his arm.

Madam Pomfrey bristled. "I think it would be best if you all let him rest for a while," she suggested curtly, but the glint in her eye made it quite clear that she wasn't 'suggesting' anything at all. It was an _order_.

Hermione was reluctant to leave. "But - "

"_Now_."

Poppy waved her wand once over Harry's limp form in a 'figure-of-eight' motion and a stream of pink light shot out and glided towards his forehead. She held her wand still for a moment and muttered a few words until his eyelids slowly fluttered to a close, indicating that he had fallen into a light sleep.

Hermione and Ron reluctantly left the bedside and exited the wing, Ron grumbling under his breath about stupid hospital rules. Lupin stared sadly at Harry for a long time, his elbows on his knees, mentally running over the conversation that he had shared with Dumbledore the previous evening, shortly after Harry had been admitted. The early morning sunshine danced lightly over Harry's bedcovers and only seemed to accentuate his hollow cheeks and translucent skin even further. Sighing heavily, Lupin too excused himself, giving Albus a pointed look before he turned to leave. "I think it's time, Albus," he whispered.

Dumbledore nodded sadly. He had hoped that it wouldn't come to this. His tired gaze rested on the frail boy before him and he flinched at the sight of his deathly complexion, paler even than the hospital sheets. The old wizard sighed. Even though all the signs in the past month had pointed to this, it was still difficult to believe.

He replied softly to the werewolf's retreating figure. "Alas, you're right, Remus."

Harry had been visibly weakening for nearly a month now. It had started with non-specific symptoms - a dizzy spell after Quidditch practice, increased tiredness during the day, the odd tingling feeling…. But now this. Albus had hoped that it wouldn't progress so quickly, that somehow he had calculated the events incorrectly, that given enough time he would be able to find an alternative solution. But it seemed as though time was running out. He couldn't bear to think of what he was about to ask of Harry.

"I'm so sorry, Harry." Albus felt a tear trickle down his wizened cheek. "If there was any other way…."

It was with a heavy heart that he nodded to Madam Pomfrey and left Harry's bedside.

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The wind whipped through the clearing in the remote location where the Death Eaters had been summoned, and the early frost of the dull October morning chilled the already icy atmosphere. It was barely ten minutes into the meeting and already conflict had arisen between two of the group. Severus Snape glared coldly at the haughty wizard who had just dared to question his loyalties and hissed at the insufferable man.

"_Remember who you are talking to, Lucius!_"

The words were pure ice, and the venom with which they were coated did not escape the notice of the pureblood wizard. The wind howled amidst the figures standing in the clearing and punctuated the words. The stench of the rotting earth beneath them was momentarily forgotten in the light of this sudden outburst.

Lucius smirked and raised an eyebrow arrogantly. He stepped forward from his place in the circle of Death-Eaters and fixed his gaze on Snape. He then lifted an elegant long-fingered hand and lowered his heavy black hood, as if daring the Potions Professor to do the same.

"I think we are all aware, _Severus_," he hissed, "of your continued pledge to serve the Order of the Phoenix and that Muggle-loving _traitor!_" He spat the last few words as if the very taste of the syllables was unbearable.

Snape visibly whitened, his nostrils flaring, as a few whispers darted around the small gathering. A multitude of scathing replies fought their way to the surface of his brain, begging to be hurled at the arrogant blonde to wipe that smirk off those sharp, haughty features - but instead Snape pressed his lips together tightly, biting back a cruel retort.

Lucius evidently gained some unseen power from this act of self-constraint on Severus' part, and continued with his taunting.

"All these years you've had that little brat right in the palm of your hand, and what have you done?" he demanded, his eyes blazing. "_Nothing!_"

Snape's shoulders shook slightly as he resolutely fixed his hardened gaze to the ground at his feet, and out of the corner of his eye Lucius could see The Dark Lord sit up and take notice. A hush descended upon the circle as the Death Eaters wondered just how far Lucius would take this verbal attack.

"Countless opportunities to finish off the boy and make it look like an accident, and you've never even _tried_, let alone succeeded!"

Snape snorted loudly, his silent seething forgotten. "Don't be ridiculous, Malfoy!" he snapped impatiently. "Dumbledore has at least twelve different wards on the boy. Any curse besides an outright _Avada Kedavra_ at close range would literally bounce off him!"

This wasn't enough for Lucius, and he rounded on the dark-haired man, his heavy cloak slicing through the cold air. "You're protecting him! You were never truly with us, Snape!"

"My allegiance is as it has ever been," Snape replied coldly, his gaze flicking briefly to The Dark Lord.

"Prove it!" Lucius cried, squaring his shoulders.

Snape's lips curled disdainfully at this public display, and he turned to face the seething wizard, taking in the flushed face and wild expression. "There is only one wizard here to whom I answer, _Lucius_," he articulated clearly, his voice even. The Professor smirked. "And it is not _you_."

The silence that followed was pierced only by Lucius' heavy breathing, and Severus prematurely claimed a silent victory. The exchange was seemingly over, until a cold, high voice at the centre of the circle penetrated the stillness, echoing Lucius' demand.

"_Prove it!_"

There was a collective intake of breath from the group.

Lucius' eyes widened in triumph. He had not even dared to hope that The Dark Lord would second his argument. Snape's gaze darted to Lord Voldemort, his features successfully concealing his rising panic. He cleared his throat, stalling for time. "My Lord?"

"_You heard_."

Everyone waited expectantly, not daring to breathe. Lucius could barely contain his glee and was hardly a step away from rubbing his hands together in delight.

Severus stiffened slightly and stepped forward from his place in the circle.

"My Lord - "

"_I will be very disappointed if I find that you have betrayed me, Severus._"

Snape shifted slightly but didn't look away.

"_What new information do you bring me from the school?_"

Snape winced inwardly. Damn Lucius. If not for his ill-timed outburst, Snape might have been able to maintain a low profile this meeting and buy himself more time before having to bring forth information to The Dark Lord. He inwardly cursed the pureblood wizard. That fool never learnt to keep his mouth shut.

"_Well?_" Voldemort prompted.

Lucius smirked to himself. _Let's see you talk your way out of this one_….

Snape closed his eyes, regretting what he was about to say. "Dumbledore has arranged something," he voiced clearly.

He paused to let this information sink in and suddenly jolted a little, realising how he could perhaps teach that confounded Malfoy a lesson. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"In fact, it will allow one of the members of our side a chance to prove themselves truly worthy of your cause…."

His gaze flicked lazily towards Lucius, who had resumed his position in the circle. The blonde wizard stiffened, his eyes blazing angrily. _What was he up to…?_

"_Go on_…." the high voice prompted.

Snape continued. "It cannot fail." His lips curled into an evil smirk. "And I'm sure Lucius will be _more_ than honoured."

The whites of Lucius' eyes rapidly grew in size as he took an angry step towards the calm man and whipped out his wand in fury.

"What are you playing at, Snape?" he roared. "Don't think for one second that I'll take part in any of your half-baked schemes!" His chest rose and fell as his knuckles whitened with the strength of his grip.

Severus arched an eyebrow in mock surprise and smirked infuriatingly at the furious wizard. "My dear Lucius," he replied languidly, "I didn't mean _you_." He stared coldly at the man for several seconds, taking in the narrowed eyes and traces of panic on the aristocratic features, before hitting the seething wizard with the full force of his next words.

"I was talking about _Draco_."

The colour drained instantly from Lucius' face and he advanced threateningly upon the smirking man, raising his wand as he did so. He could hardly contain his anger.

"_You!_"

"_ENOUGH!_" Voldemort snapped. "_Return to your position and lower your wand_."

Lucius showed no signs of backing down.

"_AT ONCE!_" It wasn't an order so much as a threat.

Lucius stopped in his tracks. He battled inwardly, shooting a ferocious glare at Snape before reluctantly retreating to his recently vacated position between McNair and Goyle, his chest heaving. All kinds of murderous thoughts flew around his brain and he felt his breath catch in his throat. It was all he could do to not hex Snape right there and then.

But Voldemort wasn't interested in Lucius' thoughts on the matter. He was far more interested in determining if there was any substance behind Snape's claim. All eyes immediately flew towards the Potions Master as The Dark Lord's piercing tones rang out.

"_Explain_…."

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	2. The Mygrator

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**Time To Rewrite**

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**Chapter 2: The Mygrator**

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Ron groaned over his breakfast for the third time. The morning meal in the Great Hall was drawing to a close and he was dreading the impending Potions lesson.

"I can't _believe_ this essay for Snape!" he moaned dejectedly, looking at his crumpled piece of parchment that was propped against the toast rack. He had deliberately made his writing larger and used double-spacing in order to fill up the sheet, but was still a good five inches away from finishing. He had precisely twenty minutes before the start of the lesson and was definitely _not_ looking forward to facing Snape.

"I know!" agreed Hermione, who had settled down next to him with her own breakfast. She reached for the water jug and poured herself a glass. "I mean, how are we supposed to squeeze it all into three feet? There's at _least_ five feet's worth of information on Devil's Snare alone before you even _get_ to its interactions with - "

She stopped abruptly at the sight of Ron's incredulous expression. Her exclamations were always lost on him. She opened her mouth to retort but was stopped short by the flutter of wings overhead, signalling the arrival of the post. Owls of all different breeds and colours swooped through the Great Hall, diving towards their respective owners and dropping packages and bundles of different shapes and sizes onto the tables. Thankfully there were no Howlers amongst the deliveries that fluttered down towards their various recipients.

A large school owl landed in front of Hermione and tapped its beak against her fingers impatiently. "What have you got for me?" Hermione cooed, patting her owl on its feathery head. The bird deposited its cargo and eagerly nipped at the handful of treats the young witch offered. When the last morsel was gone, the snowy bird spread its wings and glided away gracefully. Hermione eagerly unfurled the copy of The Daily Prophet that it had brought and scanned the front page. Her eyes bulged as she read the bold headline.

_MALFOY ESCAPES AZKABAN!_

The Daily Prophet, for once, didn't mince its words.

The cover picture displayed a tall, stony-faced man with long blonde hair being held by two guards, one on either side. His pale complexion and sunken cheeks were evident even in the black and white picture and every so often he snarled angrily at the camera, his thin eyebrows knotting together.

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth and she shoved the paper under Ron's nose. "Look at this!" Ron peered at the print, which was mostly obscured by the large slice of pie that he was holding, and only caught the smaller subheading at the bottom of the page.

"_Ollivander's Owl Wins Best In Show…?_" Ron raised his eyebrows in confusion, wondering what the correct response should be to this piece of information. He gave Hermione an odd look. "Err…."

Hermione exhaled impatiently. "Not that! _This_." She pointed to the headline.

Ron gulped and his eyes widened. "Oh no…." He shivered as he read the article.

The security of Azkaban Prison has once again been thrown

into question with the escape of Lucius Malfoy, recently

convicted supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, just

two days ago. Whilst every effort is being made to locate

his whereabouts, reports suggest that he has fled the….

It was obvious from the excited rustle around the Great Hall that the other students had read the same front page. Hermione and Ron reflexively glanced towards the Slytherin table but Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. "Typical," Ron grumbled. They then scanned the teachers' table and sought out Professor Snape. However, his carefully controlled exterior betrayed nothing, and his gaze lazily flicked over his breakfast in his usual disinterested manner.

"Look at him," Ron whispered to Hermione, his lip curling. "I bet he can hardly contain his delight. He's probably planning a celebration party with the rest of his Death Eater friends - "

"Stop it!" Hermione snapped. "He's on _our_ side." But her voice shook a little.

Ron grunted disbelievingly but let it drop. Harry had only just started to get back to his usual self and was still in the hospital wing. The last thing he needed was for his two best friends to be at each other's throats. He returned to his food and started a different topic of conversation. When he didn't receive any reply he looked up, only to see Hermione still staring at the head table, a disconcerted look on her face.

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After the morning's meal, as the students dispersed to their various lessons, Dumbledore retired to his office. He had been doing this more and more often during the past few weeks. The wizard sat in the dimly lit room before his desk, his eyes closed, deep in thought, and racked his brains for the hundredth time. _There has to be a way_….

He absently fingered the sleeve of his deep green robe, and as he traced the vine-leaf pattern that ran through the embroidery he felt a tear form in the corner of his eye. He dejectedly clasped his hands together and rested his elbows tiredly upon the knotted surface of the desk. He held his head in his hands and sighed. Never had he felt so utterly hopeless.

A low knock at the door caused him to raise his head and he spoke softly.

"Come in, Minerva."

The door opened to reveal the Transfiguration Mistress and she approached the Headmaster, her dark robes swishing slightly as she walked. After a few moments, in which the Mistress silently regarded the tired face of the Headmaster, she spoke. "You left the Hall quickly – I thought perhaps there had been a change…?" she questioned hopefully.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "No change." His voice was barely audible.

"Albus," McGonagall started, sitting down before the Headmaster. A worried look was etched on her face. They all seemed to be wearing that same look these days. "Is there no other way…?"

Albus gazed at the concerned witch and wished with all his heart that he could give her another answer. But he shook his head dejectedly. "I have been asking myself that same question for the past four weeks, Minerva…." His voice trailed off sadly and Professor McGonagall thought for a moment that he might cry. After several minutes Dumbledore cleared his throat softly. "The draught that Poppy has been giving Harry will only sustain his strength for a little while longer, but won't make any real difference in the long term. It is not curing him – only masking his symptoms." He exhaled heavily. "And it won't be long before the detrimental effects of the potion begin to override the benefits." His eyebrows knitted together slightly and his voice lowered. "I had hoped to put it off for a little longer, Minerva, but there is nothing to be done."

The witch felt a small lump form in her throat.

Dumbledore rubbed his eyes. "I must speak with him today."

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The mid-afternoon sun teased the sleeping boy's eyelids and bathed the room in a warm, autumnal glow. Harry opened his tired eyes and tried to raise a hand to rub them, but his arms felt incredibly heavy. In fact, his whole body was feeling rather unresponsive. The dark-haired boy groaned and frowned a little, feeling a little bewildered by the uncharacteristic hardness of the bed.

He had been here for nearly a week, but still he woke up with barely any recollection of having arrived. This always happened. Then after ten minutes of waiting for his head to clear and for mind to stop spinning, he would slowly take stock of his surroundings and realise where he was.

_Oh, right. The hospital wing_.

If only Madam Pomfrey would give him more of that _potion_…. That always made him feel much better. If he had been more alert, he would have realised that despite the periods of relief provided by the restorative draught, his actual condition wasn't improving. If anything, he was getting worse. But he hadn't noticed - for when the effects of the potion wore off he spent most of the time in the depths of sleep.

Madam Pomfrey had coincided Harry's visiting hours with the times when his restorative potion was due, to enable him to converse with his friends and make the most of it. The effect of the potion was like a light switch. It would turn Harry from a drowsy, barely rousable patient into his usual bright self, and he had enjoyed having Remus, Hermione, Ron and his other classmates pop by for their daily visits. However, it was becoming more apparent to Madam Pomfrey that his periods of alertness were becoming shorter, and the amount of potion required to produce the desired affect was increasing.

Harry exhaled and closed his eyes once more, feeling a sudden wave of tiredness wash over him.

"Good afternoon, Potter."

The soft greeting caused him to open his eyes and he was dimly aware of a figure standing beside his bed.

Harry opened his eyes and blinked at the visitor, taking a few moments to recognise the Transfiguration Mistress. "P-Professor," he yawned, and was suddenly alarmed that he was actually yawning at his Head of House.

But the witch didn't seem to mind. In fact, she lowered herself to perch on the edge of the bed.

"How are you feeling?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Oh – alright," he replied. "Just a little – a little tired…." He yawned again.

"And is the potion that Madam Pomfrey has been giving you helping?"

"Oh – yes, it's great. I feel fine when I have it." At this Harry frowned a little, suddenly realising that the positive effects of the Potion were not lasting as long as they had done when he had first been admitted to the hospital wing.

Professor McGonagall seemed to sense this. "But in between doses you're still feeling the same tiredness and lack of energy?" Her voice was soft.

Harry looked at her and nodded slowly, a sudden feeling of uneasiness creeping over him. There was something they weren't telling him…. He tried to sit up a little but felt his head lurch and rested it back down on the pillow. "Professor - " he started, wanting to ask more questions.

"The Headmaster will be along to see you shortly," she interrupted, rising from the bed. "He has a few things that he wishes to discuss with you." She looked at him for a few moments, but Harry couldn't quite read her expression.

"What about?" He blinked heavily as a wave of tiredness washed over him.

But Professor McGonagall didn't answer. She smiled a little sadly and Harry thought he saw her eyes glisten a little more than usual.

"You look like you need some rest," she said softly. She raised her hand to touch his shoulder – ever so lightly, as if he were fragile and might break.

Harry thought he saw a flicker of despair cross her features, but within a second it was gone. She abruptly dropped her hand and stepped away from the bedside. And with a swish of her robes she turned to leave, wiping her eyes a little as she strode away.

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Later on that same day, the early evening sun started its descent, throwing out warm pinks and oranges that bled across the sky before melting into the horizon. The fading light bathed the hospital wing in a comforting glow and illuminated the purple-robed figure that had just appeared at Harry's bedside.

"Hello there, Harry."

The dark-haired boy looked up and smiled into the pair of deep blue eyes that were glistening at him. "Professor!"

He lowered his cup and beamed at the wizard. Madam Pomfrey had just given him another dose of the restorative draught immediately prior to the Headmaster's visit, as Dumbledore had quietly requested, and Harry was already feeling much perkier. He looked at the Professor and noticed that he was looking a little older than usual, and there seemed to be more lines on his face than the last time he had seen him. Harry's eyes flicked to the ancient-looking wooden chest that Dumbledore was holding, his long-fingered hands grasping the twelve-inch by six-inch container. It looked as if it hadn't been opened for centuries. He placed it on the bedside table and lowered himself onto the chair.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently, the box momentarily forgotten as he gazed at the younger wizard, his voice etched with concern.

"Much better, thanks," Harry replied.

An unreadable expression flickered across Dumbledore's face, and he just stared at the Gryffindor for a moment. Then he relaxed his face into a smile. "I have something to show you." He turned to place the wooden chest on his lap and retrieved his wand from his left sleeve, pointing it at the brass lock. He whispered a string of words that Harry didn't understand and a thread of blue light poured from the end of his wand and encircled around the lock. With a _SNAP_, the chest opened.

Harry peered inside. A cylindrical object, shaped a little like an hourglass, lay on its side and occupied the entire space inside the chest. An intricate pattern of silver metal filigree was inlaid on the surface, and shimmered in the evening light. The body of the object glowed an icy blue and hummed softly. Harry found it difficult to draw his eyes away – it was almost as if this strange object was _compelling_ him to reach out and touch it….

Dumbledore surveyed the wizard's reaction. "Do you know what this is?"

Harry shook his head, his eyes never leaving the entrancing object.

"It's a Mygrator," Dumbledore said slowly.

Harry thought he hadn't heard him properly. _Mygra-what?_

"You can hold it," the Headmaster offered. Instead of removing the Mygrator and handing it to Harry, however, he lifted the whole chest carefully off his lap and held it forward.

The young wizard reached a tentative hand towards the object, still encased within the wooden chest, and all of a sudden the pale blue colour vanished. It was immediately replaced by an angry reddish orange colour that swirled as if it was a liquid. The pattern of the inlaid metalwork started to move, slowly at first, then twisted and changed to produce a different form - but whether it was numbers or letters or just a random design, Harry couldn't tell. Within the depths of the swirling mass, he thought for a second that he saw the image of something – _or_ _someone_….

He tilted his head to get a better look, but as he did so, yet another figure appeared in its place, so faint that he could only just make out a few features. Harry's breath caught a little as he dared to hope that what he was seeing was real – but _no_…_it couldn't be_…. He stretched his fingers further, mesmerised by the light and the warmth and the shifting patterns. The humming grew louder as he reached closer…closer…. At the sight of this, the Headmaster nodded to himself almost absently, as if something had just been confirmed in his mind.

As the buzzing increased, Harry glanced quickly at the Headmaster, unsure if he should actually touch the object. He almost felt as though it might explode if he did. Dumbledore nodded encouragingly and Harry covered the last couple of inches between himself and the Mygrator. The effect was instantaneous. As soon as his fingers grazed the surface, the noise subsided and the object immediately shrank in size with a _Pop_ until it was a miniature version of its former self, no bigger than an eggcup. Harry snatched his hand away in alarm.

"As I imagined," Dumbledore whispered, almost to himself.

He sighed and drew the wooden chest away from the startled wizard, and they both watched as the object immediately returned to its former size and colour with another soft _Pop_. Dumbledore shut the chest and whispered the locking spell under his breath before turning once more towards Harry.

"There is something that we must discuss." He replaced his wand in his sleeve and was silent for a few moments, as if searching for the right words to say. "There is a reason why I came to show you this, Harry," he finally said, his expression serious. "Do you know what a Mygrator does?"

Harry shook his head. He inwardly chuckled a little as his mind suddenly flicked to Hermione. He was sure that if she was here, she would have been able to reel off in a flash exactly what a Mygrator was, what it did, and what the going rate was for one on the current market.

"It is a transporter," Dumbledore continued. "It is the only device that can transport individuals or objects across vast stretches of time."

Harry sat up a bit straighter. Dumbledore waited a few moments for this to sink in. The young wizard shifted a little under his gaze. He frowned, remembering his own journey back in time to rescue Sirius and Buckbeak a few years ago. "What about Time-Turners though?" he asked.

"Ah, Time-Turners." Dumbledore smiled gently. "You will remember that I lent one to Miss Granger during your third year here." He nodded. "They are of use if one wishes to travel back a single day, or at the most a week – but if it is necessary to return years into the past then it is beyond the capacity of a simple Time-Turner."

"But what about that time I saw you in the Pensieve?" Harry interrupted. "I travelled many years back in time then…."

"That was a mere memory, Harry. Yes, you saw me in the Pensieve, but if you remember…no one saw you? You couldn't touch anything and nothing could touch you. To revisit a memory is not to travel into the past, Harry." Dumbledore's eyes flicked to the locked chest. "Mygrators are highly sought-after objects. As you can imagine, there are many things that one may wish to change about the distant past. Wizards and witches have gone mad trying to create them."

Harry frowned a little, chewing his bottom lip. "But can't you just use someone else's? Or buy your own?"

"Mygrators cannot be borrowed or bought, Harry," the Headmaster replied. The only person that may use one is its owner. Side-along travel is possible, but not recommended, for it binds you to that person for the duration of your journey. And besides - even to get hold of a Mygrator is very rare, as there are very few of them in existence." Dumbledore's voice changed slightly and he once again glanced at the locked chest. "Only seven people in the world have one."

Harry suddenly felt a coldness creep into his stomach and he looked at the wooden box. He swallowed slowly. "Then whose is that?"

Dumbledore looked him straight in the eye and the younger wizard felt his breath catch in his throat.

"Yours."

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	3. Events Are Set In Motion

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**Time To Rewrite**

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**-----------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter 3: Events Are Set In Motion**

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Harry's mouth dropped open.

_His?_

His mind instantly flooded with questions and he stiffened, his eyes widening as his gaze flew to the locked wooden chest. He was suddenly aware that he was breathing heavily and he could feel his heart thump against his ribcage. His eyes never leaving the chest, he whispered breathlessly to the wizard before him.

"How – how do you know it's mine?"

Deep blue eyes regarded him seriously for a moment.

"The fact that it shrunk at your touch, and that you are even able to hold it at all confirms that it cannot be anyone's _but_ yours, Harry," the Headmaster explained.

Harry looked questioningly at the older wizard.

"If anyone but the Mygrator's true owner touches it - it will _vanish_," Dumbledore continued.

Harry inhaled sharply.

"That is why there are so few in existence, Harry…."

The Gryffindor remembered his earlier words. _Only seven people in the world have one_….

"Many of those who have been fortunate enough – if that is the right word – to have one, have only had them disappear at some point by the simple act of someone merely touching it." He appeared thoughtful for a moment. "Something to do with magical energy, I believe. The magic that resides within each of us is different. It is like a fingerprint, and when the magic of another wizard or witch touches a Mygrator, the conflict is such that it destroys the object."

Harry remembered how carefully Dumbledore had given it to him. Not so that it wouldn't break – but so that he himself would not touch it.

"Is that what happened to yours?" Harry asked slowly.

"My dear boy, no," Dumbledore smiled. He peered at Harry over his spectacles. "I never had one in the first place."

Harry was a little startled by this admission.

The Headmaster continued to explain the properties of a Mygrator. "It shrinks in size only when the owner touches it, so only he or she is able to conceal it about their person. If anyone else attempts to hold it indirectly, for instance in a container of some kind, it grows to its original size – as it was when I brought it here." He paused to let all this information sink into the wizard, realising that it was a lot to take in. After a few moments he cleared his throat. "Another property of a Mygrator is its inability to reveal its images to anyone but its owner." He paused again, as if preparing himself. "When you looked into it…what did you see?" Dumbledore held his breath.

Harry swallowed.

"My parents."

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A little while later the Headmaster exited the hospital wing with a heavy heart. He immediately summoned Professors McGonagall and Snape to his office. By the time the Potions Master entered the room Professor McGonagall was already was seated by Dumbledore's desk, and the two exchanged a courteous nod.

Snape strode forward. "Headmaster." The tight-lipped man bowed before lowering himself into the offered seat.

Dumbledore paused a few moments until the wizard had settled himself before getting straight to the point. "I showed Harry the Mygrator today."

Professor Snape's eyes snapped towards the Headmaster. "And?" He held his breath.

"And, predictably, he saw his parents in it."

Minerva nodded dejectedly. "So that removes all doubt…." she whispered, almost to herself.

Snape's expression betrayed nothing of the effect that this piece of information had on him. He regarded the Headmaster for a moment before speaking. "Then we must act as quickly as possible." He started to stand.

"Tomorrow, Severus."

"Tomorrow?" Snape's expression changed slightly. "But Headmaster, the sooner we - "

Dumbledore held his hand up to silence the wizard before him. "I don't want to rush this upon Harry. He is able to receive enough of the restorative draught to last him two more days. Let him spend it with his friends. We owe him that much…." His voice dropped a little. "We can talk to him tomorrow evening. And then let us take it from there."

The Potions Master stiffened slightly. "Don't you think it may be better to - ?"

"I thank you for your concern in the matter, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted gently. "But I have made up my mind."

"I agree," Professor McGonagall added.

Snape's dark eyes flickered a little and he opened his mouth as if to say something. But then he closed it again.

"As you wish, Headmaster." He nodded curtly to the two Professors. "If you'll excuse me, I have a class to return to."

And with that he turned swiftly and swept out of the room, his black cape slicing through the air behind him.

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"Jeez, what's up with Snape?" Ron muttered to Hermione five minutes later as he measured out an ounce of dried root. "He looks like he's about to murder someone."

The Potions Master had just burst into the room in a foul mood following his meeting with Dumbledore, and had just deducted 10 points from Neville for coughing. The class was brewing a coughing potion.

Snape bristled at his desk, ignoring the looks that the students exchanged, his mind a million miles away. His gaze flicked over the students and came to a rest on Draco. He inwardly winced. _How could I have been such a fool_…. What had started as an empty threat to put the boy's father in his place was fast becoming an impending reality. There was no question about it, he _had_ to rectify the situation before it all got disastrously out of hand. _He had to think_…_fast_….

Suddenly a silent gasp escaped his lips and his face contorted in pain. Snape clenched his teeth together, detaching himself from the throbbing ache that had started to radiate from his left forearm, where beneath his heavy robes The Dark Mark seared an angry red. He raised himself from his seat and walked stiffly to the door, avoiding the urge to grasp his arm lest the students suspect.

In less than ten minutes, Snape had reached the school gates and he quickly stepped across the boundary. He turned once, twice, on the spot and Disapparated instantly.

The moment Severus' feet touched his destination he promptly fell to his knees and bowed his head towards the earth. "You called."

"_Do you have news for me?_" The question penetrated the silence and rattled through Snape's skull.

The Potions Master faltered. "My Lord - "

"_DO YOU HAVE NEWS FOR ME?_"

Snape winced inwardly and his voice was barely above a hoarse whisper when it emerged. "It will be done in two days' time."

There was a high piercing laugh and Snape felt as though he might be sick.

"_Return to the school immediately. I will notify Lucius and he will make the necessary arrangements_."

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"_NO!_"

Narcissa Malfoy crumbled to the floor and grasped her husband's robes as the strangled cry left her lips. Lucius had just returned from a summons by The Dark Lord. He told her what had been discussed and she actually felt her heart rip in two.

"You – you can't be _serious!_" she choked, tears streaming down her cheeks as she pleaded with the unrelenting man. "You _can't_. He's our _son_, Lucius!" She gripped the dark material and sobbed violently, her knuckles whitening as she frantically twisted at the cloth.

"Narcissa," Lucius snapped, somewhat softer than he had intended. He pulled his robes free from her grip. "_Control yourself_."

"Control myself?" she gasped. "He's my _son! Our son!_ How can you do this?"

A pained expression crossed the wizard's face and he turned away, not wanting his wife to see his anguish. "We have been ordered," he said stiffly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't care! This – it's madness! You – you monster!"

Lucius whirled around, his eyes flashing angrily at his wife's outburst.

"ENOUGH! _Remember who you are_."

"You've escaped from _Azkaban_, Lucius!" she cried, hot tears thickening her voice. "How long before they find you again? Please don't take my son…he's all I have left…. My baby boy…." She collapsed into a heap on the floor. "Our _son_…_our son_…."

She repeated the same desperate sentence over and over again as she rocked back and forth numbly, her head in her hands.

Lucius set his jaw determinedly and pressed his lips together tightly, his face whitening. "And The Dark Lord is our _master_."

He swept out of the room.

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A little later that day Lucius' head appeared in the fireplace of the Slytherin common room.

"Father?" Draco stopped abruptly in the centre of the room. He had been nervously pacing the floor - something he always did whenever his father urgently arranged to speak with him.

Lucius wasted no time. "Is there anyone around? I mustn't be seen…."

"No one" his son replied. "But even so, I don't think any of the Slytherin's would say anything. They're happy you've escaped - "

"I haven't got time for games, Draco!" Lucius hissed angrily. "_Is_ _there anyone around?_"

The Slytherin fidgeted uncomfortably under his father's threatening gaze. "No – no, the room's empty," he quickly replied. "I put a locking spell on the doors."

Lucius seemed satisfied at this information. He cleared his throat. "Sit down, Draco…I have something to tell you."

The young wizard obediently lowered himself onto the couch opposite the fireplace and clasped his hands on his lap. He noticed that his father looked worn and he seemed to be faltering. Lucius _never _faltered.

He paused and turned slightly away from Draco, thoughts of his earlier meeting with Voldemort running through his mind.

"I saw The Dark Lord today."

Draco felt his stomach turn over. "Wha - what happened?" he asked nervously. He subconsciously gripped the arms of the chair, his knuckles whitening as he anticipated what his father was going to say. His father never usually discussed Death Eater meetings with him. Draco's voice lowered. He was scared to ask his next question. "Are – are you alright?"

"_I'm_ alright," Lucius retorted bitterly. He swallowed slowly before turning away. He had delayed this for long enough. "He – he has a task…." Lucius closed his eyes and felt his mouth go dry.

"…for you."

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The next day, Harry was discharged from the hospital wing. He returned to his dormitory to the cheers of his roommates and caught up eagerly on the latest gossip, Quidditch results, and general chatter that he had missed while he was away. He felt glad to be back. Even the prospect of a double period with the Sytherins wasn't enough to dampen his mood. Shortly after lunch, he and Ron grabbed their books for their next class.

"Hey, mate – you haven't seen my spare parchment, have you?" the red-haired boy questioned, busily rummaging through his trunk.

"Nope, sorry," Harry replied. Here – use mine. He pulled out an unused roll and tossed it over towards Ron. He smiled at his friend. It felt nice to be doing familiar, every day things again.

"Great, thanks!" The red-haired boy stuffed it into his bag and made towards the dormitory door. Harry quickly uncorked one of the tiny bottles of Restorative Potion that Madam Pomfrey had given him when he had left the hospital wing and downed its contents in one gulp. She had strictly told him to have one bottle every four hours. He stuffed the empty bottle in his bag and followed Ron.

A few minutes later they entered the classroom and seated themselves. The teacher hadn't arrived yet, so most of the students were talking amongst themselves. Harry listened while Seamus questioned Ron about a new product that Fred and George had brought out earlier in the week, but slowly became aware of an uneasy feeling. He shifted a little and turned suddenly - and a pair of eyes locked with his.

Malfoy.

Malfoy was _staring_ at him.

Harry expected him to sneer at him when he caught his eye, but instead the blonde's stony gaze didn't waver and he seemed to look straight through Harry…_hauntingly_…. He was sitting a little apart from the rest of the Slytherins on his table and they didn't seem to notice Malfoy's strange behaviour as he continued to stare, his eyes boring into Harry's. The dark-haired wizard shivered a little. _What is he playing at?_ Despite himself, Harry looked a little closer. The boy's cheeks seemed to have hollowed a little since he had last seen him, and there was definitely a trace of – _something_ – etched in those features. _Worry…? Fear, even…?_

He had an unreadable expression on his face, and the more Harry stared at him the less he could decipher it. Malfoy's eyes darkened slightly, contrasting harshly with his pale complexion, and his lips pressed together into a thin line. Harry regarded the boy and felt an uncharacteristic pang of sympathy for the Slytherin. Ron and Hermione had told Harry about the previous day's headline about Lucius. _It must be really hard_, he thought to himself, _having a father on the run from the law whilst having to come to school every day, trying to keep a brave face about it_….

Crabbe and Goyle suddenly appeared alongside the blonde, having just entered the classroom, and something seemed to jolt inside Malfoy. He seemed to remember that he hadn't given Harry his usual taunt and snarled at the boy. "What's the matter, Potter? Only made it to the front page three times in the past week? Starting to feel neglected?"

Harry immediately frowned and turned away, feeling a surge of anger flare in his chest. _How stupid of me. He hasn't changed at all_….

But if he had continued to look at the Slytherin he would have seen the emptiness in his glare and the hopelessness in his eyes. Draco's meeting with his father the previous day had turned his entire world upside down. The blonde felt hot tears prickle at the back of eyelids as he remembered his father's words at the end of their conversation….

…_but until then you act NORMALLY. Which means you go to every class, you eat your meals in the Great Hall and you give no one any reason to suspect anything. Do you hear?_

_Yes, father._

And those had been the words that had sealed his fate.

Mere seconds later the Professor taking the class entered and started to write upon the blackboard, startling Draco out of his reverie.

As the class settled down and the lesson began, Harry's mind involuntarily wandered to his conversation with Dumbledore the day before. _Time travel_….

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"So how did you like your first day back?" Ron questioned as they reached their common room after the end of the final class. He made his way to the couch near the fireplace and pulled out the box of wizard chess that he and Harry made a point of playing every day when lessons were over.

"Great!" Harry replied happily. "It's good to be back." He grinned at his friend and settled down on the floor opposite him while Ron set up the board on a low table.

"I see Malfoy still can't keep his eyes off you," Ron remarked.

Harry felt himself redden. "What are you talking about?" he blurted. His eyes darted upwards to meet Ron's and he saw the grin on his face. "Oh, er - "

Ron laughed. "I saw him staring at you before Crabbe and Goyle came in. What do you think he's up to?" He frowned thoughtfully as he made his first move.

Harry thought for a while as he watched Ron's knight hop over his pawn and slide one place to the right. "I dunno…." he replied. "I wouldn't really put anything past him anymore."

A silence descended upon them as each pondered their strategy for the game.

A little while later Hermione entered the common room and spotted the two huddled over the table. She made her way towards them and seated herself beside Ron. Her eyes flicked lazily to the chessboard. "You'd better watch your bishop, Harry. If Ron takes that you'll have nothing to defend your - "

Ron rolled his eyes in exasperation and exhaled impatiently.

Harry chuckled and started to thank the witch – but suddenly he blinked heavily as a strange feeling washed over him. He gripped the edge of the table and inhaled sharply.

Hermione paled. "Harry – what's wrong…? Harry!"

"Nothing, I just – just feel a little - "

He turned towards his schoolbag that was lying next to him and fumbled at the outside pocket. After a little scuffling, he retrieved a tiny bottle and unscrewed the lid. "I'll just take a bit of my potion," he said hoarsely, and tipped his head back and sipped some of the cooling liquid. After a few seconds he wiped his mouth and shut the bottle. He instantly felt much better.

Hermione looked at him worriedly. "I didn't know you were still taking that…." Her eyebrows knitted together slightly. "Did Madam Pomfrey say when you can stop?"

Harry replaced the bottle in his bag and looked at her. "No, she didn't mention it."

Hermione frowned.

"Stop _worrying_," Harry said. "I'm fine! I'll be better in no time, then I'll be able to stop taking it." He settled back down to the game and moved his bishop out of harm's way. Ron gave Hermione a thunderous look.

"There's something I wanted to tell you both, actually," Harry started, his voice quivering slightly. He turned to face them and proceeded to fill them in on the visit by Dumbledore that he had received whilst he was in the hospital wing. As soon as he got to the part about the Mygrator, Hermione gasped and her hand flew to her mouth.

Her eyes widened. "You've _got_ one?"

"Yes," Harry repeated. "Dumble - "

"But they're used for time travel!" she interrupted.

"I know, he told - "

"But only seven people in the world have one!"

"Hermione!" Harry held his hands up to silence her. "I _know!_ Dumbledore told me all about it. He – he showed me mine yesterday."

"What?" Ron had been looking back and forth between Hermione and Harry as this exchange had been going on, and was completely confused.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "You must have heard of them, Ron. A Mygrator is a magical object that is" – she lowered her voice – "that is used for _time travel_. And – and Harry's _got one!_" She gasped again.

"Oh," Ron replied, not really seeing what the big deal was about. "Why? Are you going somewhere, Harry?" he quipped, grinning.

His question was interrupted by one of the younger students, who suddenly walked up to Harry and blushed. "Er – excuse me - Professor Dumbledore asked me to give you this…."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

He held his hand out and the young Gryffindor handed him a roll of parchment bound with a wax seal bearing the Hogwarts crest. The boy then left.

"Thanks," Harry said absently as he fingered the scroll.

"Well aren't you going to open it?" coaxed Ron.

"Oh, er, yes…." Harry gingerly unravelled the letter and flattened it against the table. The three of them peered at the writing.

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope this letter finds you well – I understand that you have _

_been discharged from the wing. I trust it is you who is reading _

_this letter, for I have taken the liberty of applying a charm to _

_its surface to prevent anyone else doing so. I wish to speak with _

_you this evening, and I think it is advisable at present that you _

_do not tell anyone about it. If you could come to my office at _

_seven o' clock I would be most grateful._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Harry read the letter twice, wondering why the Headmaster would want to see him at such short notice.

Ron peered over his shoulder at the parchment, completely confused. "Why has Professor Dumbledore sent you his shopping list?" he spluttered. "Quills, new buttons for his travelling cloak, fizzing whizzbees, phoenix treats…." He shook his head. "He's finally lost it."

Hermione frowned at him. "What are you talking about, Ron? It's clearly a hymn sheet from last year's carol service. Look – here's _Jingle Bells, Gringotts Smells_. But why on earth has he given it to Harry? It must be a mistake…."

The two continued to argue but their exclamations were lost on the dark-haired wizard.

He couldn't quite explain it, but he had a bad feeling about this.

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	4. Harry's Decision

After a long time, here's chapter 4!

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**Chapter 4: Harry's Decision**

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The ornate clock hanging in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor struck 6.30pm as Narcissa stared numbly at the doorway, waiting desperately for her husband's return. He had, of course, been unable to remain in the manor due to the heightened search efforts since his escape from Azkaban, and had taken to Apparating to varied far-flung destinations whilst allowing himself to be spotted briefly, just to throw everyone of the scent as to his actual whereabouts. The newspaper headlines had reflected these erratic movements: _Death Eater Sighted in France – French Wizarding Authority Alerted_…_Malfoy Rumoured To Be Hiding in Poland_…_Muggle Witness 'Saw Man Disappear' in Jersey_…. Anyone reading the papers would agree that he seemed to be everywhere – yet nowhere – when those who were trying to find him attempted to pinpoint his location.

Tonight was one of the occasions when Lucius would be visiting the Manor, albeit briefly. He had informed his wife that he would return to fire-call their son later that evening from the unregistered Floo point in the cellar of the building. To inform him of the plan. Narcissa grimaced. _The plan_. She felt as though she would be sick just thinking about it. If she could just talk to Lucius, reason with him...somehow dissuade him from using Draco in this manner…. Her lips trembled and she wrung her hands helplessly as her mind played over their earlier conversation.

"_Control yourself."_

"_Control myself? He's my_ _son! Our son!_ _How can you do this?_"

"_We have been ordered_…."

And that had been the final word.

Narcissa's lovely mouth twisted bitterly as a sick feeling entered her stomach. _We have been ordered_. And to think that she had believed her husband would value his family above the Dark Lord. A sob rose in her throat and hot tears pricked behind her eyelids. She twisted the cloth of her robes mindlessly. What a fool she had been. What a fool….

She wiped her eyes with a shaky hand and struggled to gather her thoughts, scolding herself mentally. She _couldn't_ afford to go to pieces now. If she could just talk to Lucius…. She had to change his mind before he spoke to Draco…she just _had_ to.

A jolt at the doorway startled her and moments later her husband entered the room. Narcissa sighed in relief and rose instantly, struggling to compose herself as he strode slowly towards her.

"Lucius," she started before he could speak, desperate to get a word in first. Her voice betrayed her anxiety.

The wizard approached her, rubbing his temple tiredly, a haunted look on his face. He held none of the haughty aloofness that usually defined his presence. Azkaban had certainly taken its toll. He held up a hand to silence her but Narcissa carried on.

"This has to stop, I won't have it! Draco can't do this, he's too young – "

"I won't listen to this," Lucius replied abruptly, his voice trembling slightly as he avoided her eyes.

"You – you can't let this happen! I won't let you!" Narcissa faltered. "I'll call Draco myself! I'll tell him not to – "

Lucius' head whipped upwards suddenly and his eyes flashed angrily. "YOU'LL DO NO SUCH THING!" he roared.

He impulsively gripped her wrists and held her tightly as Narcissa tried to struggle against him.

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It was a few minutes to seven as Draco returned to his room in the Slytherin quarters after the weekly evening revision session given to all seventh year students. He glanced around the room with satisfaction. He enjoyed having this room to himself – he had hated sharing a dormitory with the other students and had always longed for seventh year to arrive, when all students were allowed rooms of their own.

He sank into the chair by the fireplace and reflected on the past few days' events, mentally replaying his actions for the hundredth time to check if he had behaved exactly as he had been told to. Draco exhaled softly, nodding absently to himself as he rose from his seat. In line with his father's orders, he had changed nothing in his daily routine. Nothing could have alerted anyone that he was planning anything. Draco reflexively removed his robes and hung them neatly on the back of the wardrobe door – and paused. He had just exposed his forearms, which seemed to be shimmering lightly in the dim candlelight. He frowned a little and looked at his palms. He could still make out the faint, thread-like lines encircling the bases of his fingers where his father had traced his wand whilst uttering the incantation that afternoon when they had been speaking through the fireplace in the Slytherin common room.

At first he had been alarmed when his father had whispered the strange spell and traced his wand along Draco's arm – but then Lucius had explained what it was.

So _that_ was what a binding felt like.

True, Draco didn't know much about bindings – only what he had read for an essay once - but his father had seemed quite unconcerned about it so it couldn't be anything harmful.

If there was one thing he knew, it was that his father would never _hurt_ him.

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Seven o' clock that evening arrived, and as the sun slowly started its descent in the sky and threw its dying rays of light on the school walls, Harry ascended the familiar stone steps that lead towards Dumbledore's office. After a moment's hesitation he rapped lightly on the heavy door and seconds later a soft "Enter" welcomed him. He stepped gingerly beyond the doorway - and started slightly at the intimidating line up. Professors Snape, McGonagall, Trelawney and Dumbledore all immediately turned their attention towards him. Harry relaxed a little when he saw Professor Lupin seated by the fireplace, his weathered hands gripping a warm mug. He raised his head as Harry entered and gave him a small smile.

The office itself was just as Harry remembered it. Thick drapes hung from the ceiling at the windows and Dumbledore's trinkets rotated and hummed in their usual merry manner, contrasting sharply with the tense atmosphere in the room.

There was a definite air of anticipation, and it was instantly obvious to Harry that he had stepped in on an unfinished conversation. He was certain that they had been discussing him.

Dumbledore rose and addressed him kindly. "Please, have a seat," he offered, his arm outstretched towards a chair beside his desk.

"Thank you," Harry mumbled, and seated himself quickly. He stared up at the teachers before him, and it didn't escape his notice that a few of them were deliberately avoiding his eye.

Dumbledore sat once more and rested his elbows on the table, his hands clasped before him. He surveyed Harry over the top of his spectacles, and as Harry returned his gaze he noticed the way in which the candlelight highlighted the creases beneath the Headmaster's eyes and how tired-looking he appeared.

"I suppose I should start at the beginning," he said softly. "But first – " his eyes flicked towards the teachers briefly " – I trust you are already acquainted with all who are present? They are here at my request. And please rest assured that you may say anything in front of them that you would say to me alone."

"Yes," Harry replied politely.

"Excellent, then I shall proceed." Dumbledore fixed his gaze upon him once again. "Before I explain why you are here, however, I must ask you one more question." Dumbledore drew a short breath and looked directly into Harry's eyes. "Are you sure you saw your parents in the Mygrator?"

Harry felt the tension in the room increase in that split second and he was almost afraid to answer the question.

He did, however.

"Yes."

Professor Trelawney squeaked.

Dumbledore ignored her and continued, paying his utmost attention to Harry. "And did anything else change when you saw them?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably and scratched the back of his neck. He was suddenly starting to feel very hot under all the scrutiny. "The colour changed. It became red and – and it started to swirl around."

Dumbledore nodded to himself, as if this was confirming something that he already knew.

"I explained to you what a Mygrator is yesterday – do you recall what I said?" he asked slowly.

Harry repeated what he had been told the day before and Dumbledore nodded.

"That is correct, Harry. The Mygrator I showed you is indeed yours, and the images you saw relate to your own past. The colour red, accompanied with the swirling movement you saw indicates angry feelings."

Harry's eyes widened slightly as comprehension suddenly dawned upon him. "Is that because they used to fight at school? But that's ok though, isn't it? I mean, they got together in the end, didn't they?" he protested. He looked at Remus for some support, but his father's old friend only managed a weak smile in return.

Dumbledore exhaled heavily and Harry was silent once more.

"I'm sure you are aware that you are weakening, Harry," Dumbledore said.

"I've just been a bit – a bit unwell, that's all…." Harry shifted uncomfortably, feeling everyone's eyes on him once more. "Everyone gets ill…."

"It has been going on for a long while, and at first I am sure you thought that it was little more than a short bout of ill health…but I'm afraid there is more to it than that. Your teachers had been noticing that your condition did not resolve, and I asked Professor Trelawney to look into the matter."

"There are many things that can cause a wizard or witch to weaken, Harry. Illness, curses, emotions…and the past."

Harry looked up. _The past?_

"I have come to believe that that is what is happening with you, the Headmaster went on."

_The past? What?_

"I – I'm sorry, I don't understand - " Harry started.

Dumbledore held up his hand. "You are not - and have not - been ill, Harry." He looked at the Gryffindor seriously. "Your weakness has not been because of an illness." He looked closely at the younger wizard before him. "Your past is being erased."

_What?_ Harry did a double take. This was too much. He looked at Remus, fully expecting him to grin or wink or give some indication that this was all some kind of joke. But Remus didn't even look at him – he just held his head in his hands.

Dumbledore gave Harry time for this comment to sink in. He must have registered Harry's sceptical and somewhat bewildered expression for he continued to explain himself. "The present - the here and now - is not the only stretch of time that exists. Time is not static but forever evolving, moving along…. Just as the future is determined by the actions we make _now_, it is also possible for events in our past to suddenly change course and cause a threat to the _present_. This is what I believe is happening to you."

Harry sat back, a huge rush of confusion taking over him, trying to take in the enormity of it all. If anyone else had even suggested this to him he would have laughed in their face. But this was _Dumbledore_…. His lips trembled as he tried to comprehend just what he was telling him. "But how?" Harry croaked. "Who's doing it?" His eyes suddenly widened. "Is it – is it _Voldemort?_"

Profesor Trelawney screamed softly at the sound of The Dark Lord's name and dropped the teacup that she had been holding. It fell to the ground with a _CRASH_ and Professor McGonagall glared at her impatiently, repairing the cup with a flick of her wand.

"No, I do not believe so," Dumbledore replied patiently. You are right to ask, of course. But no - magic itself cannot change the past, even magic from a wizard as powerful as he. We may never find out what the exact cause is."

"So – so what is it that's changing? In my past, I mean?" Even as the words left his mouth Harry registered how weird it sounded.

Harry noticed, in the corner of his vision, Snape fidgeting with his hands. He seemed restless, as though he wanted to say something but was holding back.

Professor Dumbledore sighed. "Your father and mother never had a smooth relationship at school, but as you are aware, by some course of action they eventually fell in love, married, and of course had you. It now seems, however, that their relationship is far more volatile than ever before." His eyes darkened slightly. "Your mother has started to resent the fact that she is the only witch in an entirely Muggle family and has been shutting herself off from her classmates – your father included. As a result, the two of them are having increasingly angry exchanges – partly due to James' hot-headedness, and partly Lily's stubbornness." His expression saddened as he looked at Harry. His steady gaze rested upon him and for a few seconds he contemplated the dark haired wizard before speaking. "It is a very dangerous situation, Harry, because as you will be aware, none of us exists in isolation. If one small thing is changed, it has many repercussions. For instance, if they do not realise their love for one another before it is too late, then you of course would not be born." He allowed a minute for this to sink in. "That, I believe, is why you have been fading recently."

Harry felt numb with shock. His parents…. So it _was_ them he had seen in the Mygrator….

But a few things didn't make sense to Harry. "But – but I feel fine now!" he protested.

"Because you have taken the restorative draught," Dumbledore gently reminded him.

"But every time Hermione and Ron and everyone else came to see me I was fine…." he added weakly.

"That was because you were given the potion immediately prior to having visitors."

Harry bit his lip. _That was true. Why hadn't he seen it before?_ "So what are you saying?" he asked, his voice low.

Dumbledore stared at Harry intently. "The only way that this kind of a situation can be remedied is by travelling back to the time in question and correcting the events. I have researched the subject far and wide yet this, regrettably, remains the only course of action that has a hope of restoring the timeline to its original pattern. When a wizard's past is being threatened, the only definitive course of action that may be taken is to go back, and change it.

The room was silent for nearly a minute, during which everyone seemed to be looking at Harry.

He scratched his nose uncomfortably and shrugged. "Then I'll go back and change – "

Dumbledore exhaled heavily at this casual statement and looked at him intensely. "Time travel is extremely dangerous, Harry. Every single thing we do, every step we take – they all have enormous repercussions on the future. Do you understand what that means?" Dumbledore's blue eyes flashed darkly and he held Harry's gaze with such intensity that the younger wizard was quite alarmed. He had never seen him look so serious before.

"If one small thing changes," the Headmaster went on, "you may return to a future that is different to the one you left…. a future that may not even know who you _are_. Are you prepared to take that risk?"

Snape, who had remained silent throughout the entire course of the meeting so far, found it impossible to remain silent any longer. "Headmaster!" he interrupted in a strangled voice, his eyes flashing with something that Harry couldn't recognise. "Surely there must be some way - "

"Severus, _please_…." Dumbledore raised a tired hand to his head. Harry got the distinct impression that this was not the first time that they had debated this point.

"We haven't explored every possibility - " the dark-haired Potions Master continued, hurriedly, " - we just need more time - "

"There is none!" Dumbledore interrupted, this time more forcefully. And the tone of his voice signalled that it was the final word. "There is none…you know as well as I."

Harry's head started to spin. This was too much to take in. Time travel? Wasn't that a bit drastic? He remembered how Hermione had used a time-turner during their third year, but she had only gone back half a day at the most. Even the episode during which they had returned to the past to save Sirius and Buckbeak hadn't been much more than that. Harry felt a stab of sadness through his stomach at the memory of his Godfather. _Sirius_…. He still missed him so much. If he went back in time he would see him again. His heart lifted a little. See _Sirius_. And his _parents_…. Harry gulped and rubbed his eyes. This was a lot to take in. Some questions immediately sprung to the surface of his mind.

"Why didn't you tell me I might have to use that Mygrator when you showed me it yesterday?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly. He heard Snape make an impatient noise somewhere to his left.

Dumbledore regarded Harry seriously. "I wanted you to have a chance to think about your feelings towards it before being told that your going back in time may be inevitable." He was silent for a few moments. When he spoke again his voice was gentler. "And what are your thoughts about it?"

Harry jolted a little. He had indeed thought about it. And actually, he didn't have many negative thoughts. After all, it wasn't as if he'd be trapped in the past forever….

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Meanwhile, Lucius and Narcissa stood opposite eachother, a hair's breadth apart, neither willing to back down. They could have stood like that for a whole minute, simply staring at one another, the blonde wizard still gripping his wife's wrists with his long slender fingers.

"There is no point in you speaking to Draco, or instructing him to disobey my orders," he finally spoke, "because I already fire-called him earlier today."

Narcissa shook her head, her eyes widening in horror. "No…no…." she mumbled.

Lucius tightened his jaw determinedly. "Yes."

"But how did you get him to even _agree_ to this?" she demanded. The look that he gave her said it all. Narcissa gasped. "Oh my God – you didn't tell him, did you?" She yanked her arms free of his grasp and her hands flew to her mouth. "You didn't tell him that this is going to kill him, did you?"

Lucius whitened. He couldn't face her. He turned away, covering his eyes in shame.

"You coward! You couldn't tell your own son that you authorised his DEATH!"

Lucius started to shake.

"You have to tell him it's a mistake, please…." the witch pleaded desperately.

But Lucius was firm. "No."

"TELL HIM!" she screamed, now beside herself with despair. "Tell him the plan has changed – "

"I can't!" Lucius turned around angrily.

"Why? WHY?"

He refused to answer her.

"WHY?" she screamed.

"There is no use in changing the plan, because…because he has been bound," he whispered without meeting her eyes.

Narcissa felt the blood drain out of her veins. She stood still as if she had been slapped. "_Bound?_" she repeated weakly. Her voice caught in her throat and she stared at Lucius in disbelief. But her expression soon turned to one of pure hatred.

"You – you _bound_ your own son?"

This single revelation caused Narcissa to become hysterical. Without warning she suddenly lunged at him, her hands clenched into fists, and lashed out wildly. Lucius jumped backwards and tried to restrain her but she clawed roughly at his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

In a fit of anger she withdrew her wand and before she knew what she was doing she pointed it straight at his heart.

"AVAD – "

But Lucius was too quick for her. Without realising what he was doing he reflexively mirrored the curse. The magical energy generated by the explosion of green light that leapt from his wand was powerful enough to extinguish every lamp in Malfoy Manor. The room was plunged into darkness.

Narcissa was dead before she hit the floor.

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Harry stared into Dumbledore's clear blue eyes and thought for a long moment, his head practically bursting with the possibilities.

"If I did go back…" he asked, his voice rising slightly, "…how long would I be there for?"

"I couldn't say. A week, maybe more…." Albus sighed. "I can't be certain how long it would take…."

Harry hardly heard the words, however. His heart raced at the idea of seeing his parents and actually being able to talk to them. Talk to his _parents_…. Ask his father what his favourite Quidditch team was, ask his mum about – about _everything_…. Harry's head swam with the possibilities. This was a huge risk, but at the same time it was a huge opportunity. He'd be a fool not to take it….

Harry raised his head and looked at each of the group in turn. He found that his hands were trembling slightly but he ignored them and instead lifted his chin determinedly.

He turned towards Dumbledore.

"I'll do it."

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Hello! I'd just like to thank you for reading so far. I hope this whole process hasn't been too long drawn out! I'd welcome any thoughts. I know it took me four whole chapters to get up to this point, and some people may have lost interest by now, but I suppose I didn't just want it to be like:

Dumbledore: "Harry, you have to go back in time."

Harry: "Ok."


	5. The Final Day

Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed so far! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

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**Time To Rewrite**

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**Chapter 5: The Final Day**

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Harry barely registered descending the spiral stone staircase from the Headmaster's office, such was the flurry of thoughts whirring around his mind. It was actually going to happen. He was actually going to travel back…. This was _insane_. He felt himself grow hot and paused at the familiar gargoyle at the foot of the steps to draw a cooling breath. He rubbed his hands over his face and wasn't surprised to find that he was shaking. His mind ran back over the scene that had just played out, shortly before he had been dismissed from the office….

_Dumbledore faced Harry solemnly and the young wizard gave him his full attention. They might have been the only two in the office, for Harry became suddenly unaware of all the other members of staff there with them._

"_I will be completely honest with you,_" _Dumbledore said seriously. _"_There is no time to waste. This must go ahead as soon as possible – as soon as we are able to put the necessary arrangements in place._"

_Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling rather dry. _

"_I will explain the procedure, and I ask you to pay full attention. If there is any part that you do not understand, please tell me and I will endeavour to answer any questions that you have._"

_Harry nodded, never taking his eyes off the wizard before him._

"_Very good._"

_And so the older wizard had proceeded to explain how the events would unfold. _

"_Tomorrow, you must come here at eight o' clock in the morning_"_ - Harry had jolted at this – he hadn't realised it would be so soon – "and bring only yourself. You will not be able to carry anything back in time with you – it would merely disintegrate with the force of the journey._"_ The dark-haired wizard shifted uneasily in light of this information. He wasn't sure he liked this revelation. He reflexively folded his arms protectively around his body. _

"_I will give you this, however,_"_ Dumbledore went on. He lifted his wand and pointed at the Sorting Hat, which sat in its usual place on the shelf, and slowly levitated it from its perch across the room until it fell softly onto Harry's lap. _

"_Thank you,_"_ Harry said quietly. He fingered the stiff material and remembered a time, many years ago, when this hat had been placed on his very head. He had been just a boy then. _

"_You will find it contains everything you will need,_"_ Dumbledore said, giving him a knowing look._

_Harry reflexively looked into the hat, and though it was empty, he knew what the wizard meant. Just as during his second year, when he opened the Chamber of Secrets, the Sorting Hat had come to his aid and produced the sword of Godric Gryffindor – so it would now serve him in a similar way. As if to confirm this, he reached into the seemingly empty folds of material and grasped. When he removed his hand, he found he was holding a small book, entitled 'So You're Going Travelling?' On the front, a wizard in a one-piece bathing suit and a bucket and spade waved back cheerily at him. Harry couldn't help but smile at this, and heard a soft chuckle issue from Dumbledore. _

"_Ah yes, the Sorting Hat always knows…._" _He cleared his throat. _"_I will empty this office of all its contents, and only the Mygrator will be here, in the centre of the floor._"_ He pointed to the floor a few feet behind where Harry was sitting. _

"_Why is that, sir?_"

_Dumbledore smiled kindly at him, ignoring Snape's snort of impatience. _"_When you transport, the disappearance of your self in this time will create a 'hole' if you like, which means that anything in the immediate vicinity will be pulled towards this gap to fill the space that you have created._"_ He glanced around the room at the many objects residing on the shelves and tables. _"_I am afraid that if I do not remove these things, they will zoom together and cause a mini-explosion. But anyway, we digress…._" _He once more clasped his hands together and leant forward slightly. _"_When you enter the room, you must walk towards this box that contains your Mygrator and open it, just as you did that day I first showed it to you. Then you must touch it – it will instantly shrink, as before – and then you must grasp the Mygrator with both hands and lift it from the box._"_ He paused slightly. _"_You must not delay in doing this, as it will only remain active for a short time. If you do not act quickly enough, it will fade and will not be able to be activated until the following day_"_ - he fixed Harry with his gaze – _"_and every second is precious, Harry._"

_Harry nodded, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. There was silence for a few moments._

"_And when I get there – in the past, I mean…. What do I do then?_"

_Dumbledore regarded Harry. _"_I explained to you before what I believed the nature of the problem to be, and I mentioned about your mother, and your father too…. But unfortunately I don't myself have all the answers._"_ He sighed and looked away for a second before resting his gaze once more on the wizard. _"_I can only ask you to do what you feel is right. Try and find out what is keeping them apart. Try and help Lily accept herself…. He gave him a smile. _"_I am sure you will do well. You are your parents' son, after all. And I do, as I have said before, trust in your instincts, Harry._"

Now, standing at the foot of the staircase to Dumbledore's office, Harry's head still hadn't stopped swimming with the information. As he put one foot in the direction of the Gryffindor common room, one thought pushed to the front of his mind. _I have to tell Ron and Hermione._

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Back in his office, Snape was livid.

_Tomorrow. _His black eyes flashed angrily at the thought. This would give him hardly any time at all…. At first, Snape had been eager for the travel to take place as quickly as possible – in order for it to occur before Voldemort had the chance to seize the opportunity to send someone back with Harry to murder him. But now, with the certainty that this person would be Draco….

He dropped onto his chair and held his head in his hands. _What have I done_….

He had never meant for it to go this far. He silently cursed himself for his stupidity. What had erupted from his anger as nothing more than a threatening jibe at Lucius to shut him up, had ended up being an actual reality. He had been a fool, rising to the older Malfoy's taunts, and now Draco was going to suffer because of it. If only he had held his tongue….

But he had been so sure that it wouldn't come to this, that Dumbledore would find a way to avoid the use of the Mygrator, that he hadn't thought anything would come of his empty threat to Lucius to use Draco like this.

Only his threat hadn't turned out to be so empty after all.

He rubbed his red-rimmed eyes hopelessly. _What an idiot._ He shook himself. He couldn't afford to go to pieces now…_he had to think_. Perhaps there was a way out. Maybe he could convince the Dark Lord to abandon the plan, or at the very least, to use someone else. He knew that Voldemort regarded him as one of his closest followers and valued his opinion. If he could just convince him not to use Draco…. He ran his fingers roughly through his tangled, shoulder-length hair. Yes, that was what he had to do. There was hardly enough time…. If the travel was due to commence at eight o' clock the following morning, he needed to work _very_ quickly. He would have to inform Lucius at once.

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Lucius clutched at his stick so tightly that Severus could see his knuckles almost protrude from beneath his skin. The blond wizard had been going out of his mind with the recent events and had just been about to contact Severus when the wizard himself had summoned to see him. They were now standing just beyond the edge of the Hogwarts grounds, in a secluded spot on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Lucius was not pleased.

"I just don't understand…why go to all the trouble of going _back in time_ to kill Harry? Why not just do it now?" He exhaled angrily.

"Don't be foolish!" the Potions Master snapped instantly. "Here, in the present, Harry is protected. When he returns to the past, the effect of the time travel will weaken whatever wards have been placed around him. Surely you are aware of the effects of time travel, Lucius?" he retorted, forcing himself to remain cold. Snape hated himself for doing it, but he couldn't let the wizard know how uneasy he was feeling about Draco's safety or Lucius might just fall apart. No, the best way was to act as though the plan was airtight.

Lucius's eyes glinted madly, almost desperately. "But there has to be a way! Something! Anything…." He started to pace, wringing his hands together. Any authority he possessed was dissolving. "We have to stop this now…."

"I will try to influence The Dark Lord to use someone else, Lucius," Snape offered. "That is the best I can do."

"But that's no use," Lucius muttered, almost to himself. "It has to stop now…." He didn't seem to be listening to Snape - he just continued to pace.

This was unusual behaviour for the Malfoy.

"Did you hear what I said?" Snape's eyes narrowed. He whirled around to face the man. "It's not too late – I will make every effort to – "

"You don't understand!" Lucius interrupted. "He's bonded!"

Snapes eyes flew open at this and he froze instantly. "He's _what?_" he choked. It was a long moment before he could speak again. "Who…?"

"I did!" Lucius cried desperately, shame twisting his features. He was unable to meet the wizard's shocked gaze. "I did…."

"Why?" Snape croaked, grasping at the gates behind him, barely able to remain upright. This awful revelation had taken the air out of his lungs.

"I didn't think," Lucius answered helplessly, still pacing about nervously. "Draco agreed to travel back, he was – " he grimaced at this part " – _honoured_. But I thought that closer to the time he might try and resist it somehow and – and bring shame on our family." His voice was barely above a whisper now. "So I bonded him, to make sure he goes through with it." He looked utterly ashamed of himself. "As long as the time-travel plan goes ahead, it has to be Draco who goes back. Or - " He couldn't finish the sentence.

" - he'll die," Snape said quietly. The Potions Master could only stare at him in disbelief. "You _fool_, Lucius," he whispered. He watched the blond wizard grimace. This changed everything.

"You think I don't know? I – I panicked. I wasn't thinking…." This was new territory for Lucius. In Snape's living memory, Malfoy had never once admitted being wrong or vulnerable in any way. "It's only now that I realise what danger I've put him in." _Narcissa was right_, his mind taunted him. He hung his head in shame. He couldn't even bring himself to think about her.

Severus looked at Lucius and saw a broken man. For all his Death-Eater status and power and influence, all he actually was, was a desperate man who realised he had made a terrible mistake and was trying to save his son.

Lucius pressed his lips together, refusing to meet the other wizard's gaze. "I blame you, Snape," he said quietly, his voice laced with bitterness. "Why involve Draco in all this in the first place?"

Snape faltered. "I – I never meant for this…."

"Don't give me that!" spat Lucius, whipping around angrily and thumping his stick against the ground.

Snape held his gaze. "I was angry, Lucius! But I didn't mean for it to go this far. Really, I didn't - "

"If anyone, it should be you!" he snarled, facing the other man defiantly.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Snape retorted.

"You just want to save yourself! That's all you've ever done! You don't work for anyone else and you never have!"

Snape was losing his patience. "_Think_ for goodness sake, Lucius! If I or any other grown wizard tried side-along travel through a Mygrator it would disintegrate on the spot! Draco won't be eighteen for a few months yet – the chances of him being detected are slim to none!"

This seemed to sink into the blond wizard, but Lucius still wasn't ready to back down. "But why Draco?" he persisted, his voice breaking slightly. "Why not – why not…."

Snape swallowed. "You are highly valued by the Dark Lord. If he trusts anyone it is you." He looked away. "I do not believe that he would trust anyone with a task as important as this apart from _your_ son."

Lucius looked at him for a long moment, seemingly battling with himself to remain under control. "Well the damage is done now," he said bitterly. He fixed Snape with his gaze. "And you'd better do everything you can to make this work." His jaw quivered. "If anything happens to Draco…."

The sentence left unfinished in the air.

Lucius recovered himself. "Will anyone see him leave?"

"No," Snape answered. "Dumbledore's office will be empty when the travel is initiated. It will just be Potter and the Mygrator. Draco can slip in easily. I will make sure he is there before Potter enters the room." Snape was silent before speaking once more. He was not a sympathetic man, but there was a slight softness in his voice as he asked his next question. "How is Narcissa?" He knew that she would have taken this badly.

Lucius stiffened and looked Snape straight in the eye, his mouth a grim line.

"She's dead."

And without looking back or giving any further explanation, he Disapparated on the spot, leaving Snape staring in disbelief at the empty space before him.

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Alone in his office, Dumbledore placed the chest containing Harry's Mygrator on his desk and seated himself before it. The room was empty – he had dismissed all the staff members shortly after Harry had left the office. Dumbledore didn't know how he felt at that moment. Scared? Yes. Apprehensive? Certainly. And maybe, if he was honest with himself, also a little relieved.

He couldn't help feeling that he was being selfish.

Dumbledore gazed at the box and rested his chin on his clasped hands, suddenly feeling older than he ever had. He was more than a little ashamed of himself. He'd had no business tempting Harry with the idea that he would see his parents again. Of course he wouldn't refuse to go back in time if it was with the promise that he would see them again. And yet, as far as he could see, this was the only feasible course of action to save the young wizard.

The dimly flickering candle in the wall bracket to the right of him cast a soft shadow on his face, throwing into relief the heavily lidded eyes and tired lines. Now it was all up to Harry. He could only hope for the best.

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Draco felt the blood rush straight to his head. Things were escalating so quickly. _Tomorrow? How on earth could he prepare in time for tomorrow? _He had only been informed of the plan, and of his key role in it, a few days earlier – and now he was supposed to be ready to leave tomorrow? Professor Snape had called him earlier to his office to explain the procedure of events – how to slip into Dumbledore's office just ahead of Harry, hidden by a temporary concealment charm to avoid being seen…how to touch him just before he picked up the Mygrator with both hands. It all seemed fairly simple, really. But then came the next part. When they travelled back, and when the protective spells around Harry were weakened, he had to kill him. Just like that. He drew a shaky breath. Even though he had been told this during that first firecall by his father a few days ago, his stomach did a familiar jolt at this. He had never used an Unforgiveable before. And even though it was _Potter_ – certainly no friend of his – could he really kill him? Actually _kill_ him? If Draco was honest with himself, he actually felt a sliver of bitterness towards his father, for putting him in this position. But Draco quickly shook the thought from his head, angry with himself for questioning his orders. This was what serving the Dark Lord would be like, and if he wasn't prepared to do this – the biggest service of all – then he would be falling at the first hurdle. His mind turned over this idea and he was so preoccupied with the thought that he only faintly heard the pop in the Slytherin common room fireplace.

"All clear?" his father's head hissed from the hearth.

Draco jerked his gaze towards him and nodded shortly before looking away again. He swallowed and gave his father a sidelong glance, not wanting him to see his uneasiness. He hated appearing weak in front of him. He wiped his palms against his robes and carefully schooled his expression into one of polite interest before turning towards him, and waited for the other wizard to speak once more.

"Severus has informed you of what you need to do?"

Draco nodded once more. His father seemed to have aged since he had last seen him. Maybe it was because usual haughty stare was gone, and replaced by something more akin to unease. Draco's eyes flickered a little. Why was his father so tense?

Lucius flinched slightly as he faced Draco. He couldn't bring himself to tell his son exactly what kind of danger he had put him in. There was so much he needed to say, but where could he start? _If you don't succeed in killing Harry, then you will die yourself. It would have been prevented, had I not bonded you, but I valued my place in the Dark Lord's circle more than your life. I couldn't face the shame of you returning without completing the task so I made sure that you either succeed or die yourself. I wanted to make sure that you would carry out your orders…that you wouldn't fail Him or your family…._ He felt sick at the very thought. He didn't deserve to even face his son. _Coward_. The word reverberated inside his head.

"Be careful, Draco, " he said quietly.

Draco started a little. He had learnt the different tones of his father's voice over the years. He was familiar with cold, sharp, indifferent, abrupt…. But this was something he didn't recognise. He sounded almost scared. Is that what he detected in his father's voice? _Fear?_

_Concern, even?_

Draco set his jaw firmly, slightly apprehensive of the meaning behind his father's words. "Don't you trust me?" he said carefully.

"Don't be insolent!" the older wizard snapped automatically. He immediately stiffened and turned away a little. "Can't I tell my own son to look after himself?" he said tightly. "Just – " he exhaled a shaky breath " - just be careful."

Draco jolted a little. His father was actually concerned for his safety.

A few moments of awkward silence passed, in which Draco fumbled with the cuffs of his robes, unsure of exactly what he should say.

He swallowed a few times and finally found his voice. "I will," he replied quietly. "Thank you, father."

And without looking back, Draco swept out of the room.

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So that's all the background set in place…. Next chapter will be the journey! Thank you for reading!


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